


intimate measures

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Feelings(tm), M/M, Trans Male Character, ftm junmyeon, rating is for themes discussed, shrug emoji just queers being queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: “If something did go wrong you’d still love me though, right?”Junmyeon’s wriggling to tug his shirt tails out of the waistband of his skirt. “No,” he replies easily, small fists full of fabric, “But nothing is going to go wrong.”That’s- ok. Chanyeol speaks Junmyeon; that meant ‘you’re good at your job and I trust you.’





	intimate measures

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in the same au as [Intimate Contexts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264156). both are just explorations of their relationship so can be read alone, but IC will add more context to this and their circumstances. junmyeon is a pre-everything trans guy unable to publicly come out due to his environment and that is the main theme addressed in this, so please take care if that may be an uncomfortable read ♡♡  
> I’ve had this draft since february and suddenly wanted it posted, so, here it is. this isn’t even slice of life I’ve really peaked with writing about absolutely nothing : D

Chanyeol misses the ink cap. He stares at the splash of black on his desk, the empty cap, the tip of the bottle. He’s been a qualified tattoo artist for six years. He travels the world for conventions. And he just-

“It looks so different in here,” Junmyeon says from the leather bed, “How long has that wall been all geometric like that?”

“Uhh,” Chanyeol scoots back in his chair to grab blue paper towels from beside the sink, “Like, three months, I think? I did it before that time- you know, the weekend when we visited Osaka aquarium.” It involved a lot of tape, a lot of measuring, and maybe more time studying paint charts to be absolutely sure of the exact complimentary tones than it took to actually do. “Painted it before we left so it’d have all that time to dry without me getting impatient and pulling the tape off too soon.”

Junmyeon hums. “You did it yourself?” He looks again, studying the lines more carefully. “You’re so good at anything creative you try, Chanyeollie.”

“Ha, yeah. I guess.” Chanyeol balls the paper towel up and throws it across into the trash. This time. This time he’ll fill the ink cap.

Junmyeon isn’t just any client; of course he’s allowed behind the counter while Chanyeol’s setting up. It’s just, the entire thing is a little unnerving. Chanyeol’s never tattooed a partner before. Since they started dating Junmyeon’s only ever visited the studio as moral support for friends who are having work done. Respectful boundaries, or something, it’s not like Chanyeol finds it appropriate to hang out in Junmyeon’s office. It’s kind of weird even seeing him in here.

Junmyeon came straight from work, so he’s dressed for work. His dress shirt is still tucked into his skirt, overhanging slightly because the cut of a men’s extra small is wider than his tiny tiny waist. His heels are tucked under the bed and his suit jacket folded over the spare desk chair, shoulders too narrow to hang it.

Two drops of black ink land perfectly in the cap. “Alright,” Chanyeol says, confidence restored, “Let’s see what I’ve got booked for this evening.”

Junmyeon pouts curiously, watching Chanyeol store the ink bottle away and then glide along in his chair to pick up his schedule book. He’s swinging his feet and they’re nowhere near the floor, even with the bed only raised one notch. There’s a ladder running up the left shin of Junmyeon’s tights, and Chanyeol’s pretty sure they’re new. Because once they’ve laddered Junmyeon throws them out. Junmyeon buys an awful lot of tights. 

“Let’s see,” Chanyeol repeats, running a finger down the list of names scored through until he reaches the one circled. “I seem to only have one appointment scheduled for the rest of the day.”

Junmyeon indulges him, because Junmyeon’s never one to turn down an opportunity to be dramatic. He gasps, feet kicking faster before locking at the ankles to balance his weight as he cranes forward. “I hope it’s me.”

Chanyeol tugs his glasses down from his hairline, a tumble of pastel purple and blue falling after them. Junmyeon’s name is circled like a little whirlwind around it. The blue ink is Chanyeol’s own. Zitao is responsible for the green swirls. 

“If you’d happen to be Kim Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, but his smile leaks out the warmth inside. “I hope your work at the end of the day is as good as at the start.”

“All of my work is good,” Chanyeol pouts, “But maybe after a whole day of warmups I’m even better by evening.” He thinks of the splash of ink beside the cap and frowns. “If something did go wrong you’d still love me though, right?”

Junmyeon’s wriggling to tug his shirt tails out of the waistband of his skirt. “No,” he replies easily, small fists full of fabric, “But nothing is going to go wrong.”

That’s- ok. Chanyeol speaks Junmyeon; that meant _you’re good at your job and I trust you_.

“Do I need to take my shirt off or can I just lift it?”

“Off.” Chanyeol gestures unbuttoning, “For just in case. The ink and blood smears around.”

Junmyeon grimaces at that, and he gets a little wrinkle under his chin as he pouts down at his collar button. Chanyeol thinks about kissing his cheeks. Instead he moves the heater out from the wall and closer to the bed.

 

Initially Junmyeon had suggested having the small design on his chest, on the flat strip down the centre. Chanyeol advised against it because when ( _when_ ) Junmyeon has top surgery the design may get displaced. Junmyeon trusted his advice on that. Junmyeon’s stubborn and liked his own idea, but maybe he likes the hope that one day things will change more.

Junmyeon skims paperwork while Chanyeol sits at the light box and cuts the stencil into a neat little oval. “Chanyeollie, do you need my legal name?” Junmyeon bites into his lip. Forms are forms. Junmyeon’s always had an uneasy concern that Chanyeol will end up arrested for something or another in this line of work, be it the tattooing itself, letting his apprentice work illegally..Junmyeon doesn’t want to contribute to that by falsifying his documents. “I already checked male without thinking, is-”

“That’s fine,” Chanyeol says softly, “Write what I have you booked in under. Just don’t lie about allergies or skin conditions, that’s the only part I actually need.”

Junmyeon swallows hard. “You’re unprofessional,” he mutters, watching Chanyeol shake out and pull on a pair of black gloves. He finishes the form, caps the pen. Scrapes his hair back from his hot face. “And you’re trying to cook me with this heater.”

“It’s winter outside, Kim Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says patiently, faced away from Junmyeon as he digs back in his bottle store for what he’ll need to apply the stencil, “However steady my hands are won’t help if you’re shivering. I can get something to cover you with instead, if you want.”

Junmyeon starts kicking his legs again. “It’s fine.” Being uncovered in any way is always..it’s a _thing_ whether Junmyeon wants to think about it or not. He doesn’t want to be the only guy that needed a blanket. Maybe he wore his one nice bra because he figured he’d need to be shirtless, and Chanyeol’s mentioned that the satin feels good. Not that Chanyeol’s going to be looking or touching while he’s working. In a split second he decides to twist his arm up behind his back and take it off.

“Ok, so this is-” to Chanyeol’s credit he only falters for as long as it takes to clear his throat “-the transfer. But if you want anything changed- size or anything, I can.”

Junmyeon takes Chanyeol’s wrist in both hands, tugging him close to see the design. “That’s fine. Can we start?”

“We can.” Chanyeol gets that urge again - just a quick kiss, to Junmyeon’s cheek or the crown of his head. But they’re being professional and all. He professionally covers Junmyeon’s hands with his own, squeezing before gently prizing his wrist free. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Junmyeon pouts, “If a big baby like you can get 90% of your body tattooed I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and reaches for the spray bottle of green soap. “Stand up for me,” he says, and Junmyeon is so small that even sitting in his chair Chanyeol is at the wrong angle. He kneels down on the hard tile floor, cold immediately soaking through to his skin. Junmyeon’s grinning, he can sense it.

“It’s best to put the design on with you standing,” Chanyeol explains. He tugs the waistband of Junmyeon’s skirt out the way and reaches for more paper towel, tucking it in to protect the fabric. “If you’re lying down then the skin is- _hey_.” Junmyeon petting his hair is _not_ a professional artist-client interaction.

“It’s instinctive when you’re down there,” Junmyeon pouts defensively, “You get sad if I don’t pet you when you’re good. And you’re explaining everything to me so well.”

“ _Behave_.” Chanyeol’s doing his best here. If it goes wrong it’s not gonna be _his_ fault. “This part will be cold.”

The spray part is actually sort of hot and prickly. The following squeeze of fluid onto Junmyeon’s skin is icy for the few seconds before Chanyeol spreads it with a fingertip.

“Sehunnie said it hurts a lot.” Junmyeon watches Chanyeol’s concentrated frown deepen as he angles the stencil. He resists worming his fingers back into Chanyeol’s hair, however soothing getting to pet something would be right now. “Sehunnie- she said if it’s on a bone or on soft skin it hurts.”

“You only really have those two options.” Chanyeol rubs more fluid over the transfer and presses down. Muscle - there’s muscle, but neither Junmyeon or Sehun have much of that where their ink will be. “It varies person to person. If _a big baby_ like me can get a shin tattoo I’m very sure you’ll do fine.” He smiles, presses his tongue through his teeth at Junmyeon when he lifts his head to scowl, then gives his thigh a pat. “Check that in the mirror and then we can start.”

 

It only stung a little bit that Zitao did the work on this. After all, Zitao understands how Junmyeon feels better than Chanyeol can. Not identical, exactly, but they have shared feelings, experiences, that Chanyeol only sees refracted through them. He runs a queer friendly studio, yeah, but to be fair that isn’t the majority of his clientele, and it generally just involves the colours of the rainbow. Chanyeol likes the body he’s in so much he’s decorated nearly the entire thing. 

Getting a tattoo at all isn’t something Junmyeon’s spoken of wanting, but affirmation is. Nearing 30 and still no hormones, still no he/him/his Kim Junmyeon existing outside of the little safe bubble he’s made for himself. This made sense, Zitao said. Junmyeon, Jùn Miǎn. That’s him, whether people use his chosen name or not. It describes him as well as the sounds fit him. 勉 it is. 

“Junmyeonnie,” Chanyeol frowns, picking into a box of blue rubber bands, “You- have to take that back. About not loving me.” 

Junmyeon blinks across at Chanyeol.

“Just!” He waves the machine in his hand, the wrapped cables knocking against his leg. “If it’s on my mind I won’t be able to focus. And then it _will_ go wrong.”

Junmyeon smiles, shakes his head. “You don’t make mistakes. Just treat me like a normal client.”

“Pay me like one then,” Chanyeol gripes, stretching the band between his thumb and finger to work it over the frame.

“I was going to fuck you,” Junmyeon shrugs. Chanyeol nearly sends the band flying across the room and does snap it sharply into his hand, hissing. “But if you want, what? 70k for ten minutes work..”

Junmyeon’s offering a fairer deal. But it’ll be a miracle if Chanyeol actually gets the work done. 

“Alternate payment methods accepted,” he says as though sharpness will hide the heat in his face. Chanyeol’s bottoming skills still have yet to improve with practice, but god is he sensitive. Junmyeon humours him by making it sound like Chanyeol can even take the smallest dick Junmyeon owns to the ridge of the narrow head. “God. Fuck. Shit.” Chanyeol shakes his fluffy pastel head and tries to think about anything but how last time the stretch overwhelmed him so much he cried a big soggy patch into his pillow. “You’re putting me off! How am I supposed to focus _now_.”

“Because you won’t get it if you don’t get the work done first.” Somehow the ladder in Junmyeon’s tights looks even worse than when he arrived. He’s deceptively delicate in appearance for someone so heavy handed. “And even if anything did go wrong, I know you’d be able to fix it.”

Ok. Good. Chanyeol tests the pedal without warning, and maybe it’s a little satisfying that Junmyeon jolts at the buzz. “Time to lie down and behave, Myeonnie.”

Junmyeon does as told, and then he goes unusually quiet. He lets Chanyeol reposition him slightly on his side with gentle hands on his tummy and hip. Chanyeol’s left hand stays there, his finger and thumb a light press and pull to keep the skin taut.

“Warn me.” Junmyeon hitches, not breathing steady.

“Of course.” Chanyeol runs the needle through the ink, then leans back over his tiny boyfriend, bracing his wrist against his upper thigh. Useful when you can be overfamiliar with the body you’re working on. “Junmyeonnie, it’ll only take five minutes, honest. And if you need breaks that’s ok.”

Years of doing this gives you some intuition for when someone is going to try and hold their breath for the entire thing. Chanyeol strokes Junmyeon’s hip with his thumb, just over the edge of the transfer.

“I’ll start with one tiny line so you can feel how it is, ok? Generally it’s not as bad as people think once it’s happening. And breathe,” Chanyeol smiles. Junmyeon just sort of winces in return, “If you ever hear stories about people fainting and things, it’s just because they got worked up about it or didn’t eat beforehand or whatever.”

Junmyeon blows out a long breath. So, good, he does remember how to breathe. “This was a bad idea,” he says, “What am I doing getting a tattoo?”

Chanyeol tilts his head, and a puff of lilac hair sways from one side to the other. “If you’re trying to say I’m a bad influence..”

“No-” Junmyeon pushes up on an elbow, stomach flexing under Chanyeol’s hand. “It’s not that. I do want to. I didn’t think I’d get nervous. Sorry,” he glances away sheepishly and settles back down. Chanyeol watches his nails dig into the leather before tucking into little fists. “I’m trying not to think about why it’s important, but I guess now is the one time I should be.”

“Mm, this is usually the part where I’d ask why you’re getting it.” Chanyeol loosens his poised grip on the machine. The insides of the gloves are already stuck to the backs of his hands with sweat, pasty from the powder inside to help them slip on easily. “And you unload all your feelings and tell me all about something super personal that I don’t understand, and then it’s finished before you’re even at the end of the story.”

Junmyeon’s mouth turns down at the corners. For a moment his eyes go distant, and Chanyeol’s arm is getting weighed down from holding the machine up waiting to start, but he gives Junmyeon that moment. It passes with a blink and a frown. “Just start already,” Junmyeon says, staring across at the geometric wall, “If it hurts too badly I’ll just get you back for it later.”

Of course with Junmyeon there’s no need to talk about it. Chanyeol understands all too well the conflict in Junmyeon loving so much about himself - the knowledge he’s grown with, the person he’s become, the name he’s made his own - but the skin he’s in still betraying his confidence at times. The rest of his world isn’t ready for him yet. Still.  

The machine buzzes to life and Chanyeol settles back in position. Then- wait. He lifts his foot from the pedal. “It’s, you know, it’s not..not-manly or whatever to ask for a break. I have like, guys three times your size who cry and can only do half hour sessions.”

“Chanyeol, _please_ just start.”

 

 

Junmyeon made little fuss while the tattoo was being done and a lot of fuss after, when Chanyeol cleaned and taped over the red skin. He delayed slipping his heels back on for as long as possible while Chanyeol closed the place down for the night and stuffed his bra into his work bag. Once they’re outside with Chanyeol double-checking the lock Junmyeon is cursing his stupid tights and skirt and thin work jacket.

Chanyeol is one arm and half his long torso out of his hoodie when Junmyeon realises what he’s doing.

“Don’t give me that,” he tugs at it, trying to pull it back over Chanyeol. He runs colder and gets sick easier. “Chanyeol-”

“I live nearer. And your body needs to feel happy to heal quickly,” Chanyeol argues, stepping away and quickly shucking out of the swamp of fabric. It’s not easy capturing Junmyeon inside it when he’s so wriggly and adamant that he doesn’t want or need Chanyeol’s chivalry thank you very much. “I’m just being _gay_ ,” with growing exasperation Chanyeol succeeds in wrestling too much of Junmyeon into the hoodie for him to object, “Take it. Give it back at the weekend.”

This far in, it’s too warm for Junmyeon to say no. He tugs it the rest of the way on, worming his hands through the cuffs. His work clothes feel strange and press uncomfortably against his body blanketed in more material, and he’s sure he’s going to look odd on the train. It’s just the pain in his hip making him shiver now. “I’ll- you can have what I promised, too,” he says, letting a sleeve fall down past his hand again. The material bunched around his shoulders smells of Chanyeol. Gay. “At the weekend.”

To his surprise, Chanyeol shakes his head. “Totally not this weekend. Or next,” he says, slipping his hand through Junmyeon’s arm so he can steer them towards home. Ah, so warm in the snug space between his elbow and waist. “Not until the tattoo has healed.”

“Oh?” Junmyeon frowns. Then thinks of the fluids, the straps, the..yeah, fair point. “Well, I’m sure I can think of something else until then.”

Chanyeol totally only shivers because of the cold. He stamps side to side, shoulders hunched up to his ears. They’re scarlet at the tips and it’s only the idea of unbundling and losing warmth that stops Junmyeon reaching for one. “I’ll look forward to it. And I’ll be texting you reminders every day for how to look after that until it’s safe.”

“You already told me earlier.”

“You’re forgetful. And messy, and I’d actually have to retire and die if my own boyfriend ruined my work,” Chanyeol says louder than he normally would when they’re walking down a main road. Junmyeon’s in heels and no one’s really focused on anything but getting out of the cold as quickly as possible. “You had to trust me to do it right, I have to trust you to take care of it.”

Junmyeon huffs softly and squeezes Chanyeol’s arm where they’re linked. The ladder in his tights is letting cold in. It’s his second ruined pair this week, so maybe Chanyeol has a point. “Sounds like a lot of commitment now you put it like that.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. Very funny. “I love you, Kim Junmyeon,” he says, “Even if you’re a pain sometimes,” and then shivers so hard Junmyeon yelps at the abrupt movement. He bundles more of himself and the baggy fabric in against Chanyeol’s side, pressing warmth to him with force to help stop the shakes.

“Me too,” Junmyeon mumbles into Chanyeol’s upper arm. He loves Kim Junmyeon, too, even if he’s a pain most times. And Chanyeol. He loves Chanyeol, of course. He thinks about specifying that, but then Chanyeol sneezes and nearly bowls them both over, and the stumbling irritates the hot soreness under Junmyeon’s dressing. “I’m _trying_ to take care of it,” he huffs, “You’re a hazard.”

“No you,” Chanyeol shoots back, sniffing loudly. They’ll have to part in a few minutes when they reach the station, but he still curls his arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders. He tucks in small and comfortable, avoiding Chanyeol’s side with his elbow. “My Junmyeonnie,” he sniffs again, “You sat really well after all that worrying.”

“And you worked well for someone so distracted,” Junmyeon replies, smiling sweetly. 

At the reminder of his promised repayment, right here out in the open, Chanyeol flushes, a wave of heat radiating from his hairline to as far down his frozen feet as he can feel. He’s probably burning up enough to keep them both warm now. “You’re a pain _all_ the time,” he amends, and this time he does press a kiss firm to the top of Junmyeon’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ! ☀ I am on [twt](https://twitter.com/taonsil) ❀ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/suyeols) 24/7 crying about suyeol and queer things, often simultaneously


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